


let's go to sorrento when things look better

by halimedes



Series: sun drenched cobblestone streets [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halimedes/pseuds/halimedes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>being two halves of a whole makes a difficult situation more complicated.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's go to sorrento when things look better

**Author's Note:**

> this is obviously a simplified version of the economical and political situation in italy, but it does hopefully hold more than just a bit of truth to it. and uh. well, i haven't really written in shit for extra angst, but i'm unsure of how it'll be seen together with this sort of characterisation.

Romano has taken solace in their living room, curled up on the sofa with a large cup of coffee in his hand as he tries to watch the news. The sounds however are too loud and the colours of the screen just this side of too bright, so he mutes it and picks up the newspaper Veneziano had left there in the morning. He hears his brother bustling around at the floor above him, laughter and music in the air as he cleans.

He opens the newspaper and when he tries to read it the letters blurs together, words difficult to make out. Not that he needs to read it to know what's written. Some politician here, some corruption there, something about some court case, some piece of culture, a bit of sport. He sighs. Can't even finish off the coffee, the hot liquid burning on its way down his throat. He feels as though his whole body is burning. Romano realises that the fever must be back, and carefully touches his forehead. Definitely warm. Fucking hell.

He's not that bad off, he tries to tell himself. He remembers Greece's face at the meeting in Davos; Spain's flustered cheeks that he had tried to blame on the winter, an excuse that Romano let him believe that he believed in. Portugal and Ireland. He shudders involuntarily and gets up to close the open window. The sounds of the city greets him at it, amongst them the sound of a neighbour's radio, a satirical news report crossing the air to him.

Romano shuts the window window closed with a little more force than necessary. It feels good, and he smirks and tries to hold on to that feeling a little longer. He sits down on the sofa again. Curls up, again, and rests his chin on his knees as he stares at the painting that hangs between the windows. It's quiet upstairs now.

Veneziano hops down the last few steps of the staircase, lands at the bottom with a thud that’s too loud for Romano's liking.

‘Brother,’ Veneziano hums and sounds like he's not at all done speaking, but he stops abruptly in the doorway and stands quietly. Romano turns to look at him, but his face is bleary. ‘Um. Wh-why are you crying? Did something happen?’

‘Shut up! I-- I'm not crying, dammit!’ he shouts, voice uneven and hoarse, and he's shocked to find tears in the corners of his eyes. He blinks rapidly in an attempt to get rid of them. Veneziano stands still in the doorway, takes a couple of small steps closer. Romano doesn’t like that thoughtful expression, how it's only half a shade away from pity. He doesn’t need anyone’s pity, but least of all he needs Veneziano's. He hurls the remote at Veneziano, who sidesteps it easily and watches with wide eyes as it crashes on the floor. It doesn't break, but the back falls off and the batteries out. Romano turns his head and stares at something outside of the window.

He hears soft footsteps and the cluttering sound as Veneziano picks up the remote and puts the batteries inside. With a click Veneziano turns on the sound and it blares out, some shit about economy, before he turns it off a moment later.

‘What happened?’ he asks. Places the remote on the coffee table, moves the cup with now cool coffee out of Romano’s reach.

‘I'm so fucking lucky I'm not only southern Italy,’ Romano says and can't stop sobbing, ‘I'm central Italy too, mostly, or else I probably would've fallen dead already.’

Veneziano flinches, hovers just a step too far away from being able to touch him and Romano is so happy, he doesn't want to be touched, would like to never be touched or possibly seen again because his face is burning and so are the back of his eyes and his head too — a damn fever, _again_ , and the embarrassment and tears. He shivers and tries to wipe away the tears, but more wells up no matter how harshly he rubs at his closed eyes and he should stop thinking so much lest he wants to start hyperventilating.

‘It's unfair,’ he manages to say, broken and all but whispered. Gestures with a floppy hand movement between them. ‘So fucking unfair, dammit. A prince and pauper, just look at us--!’

‘Brother,’ Veneziano says and it sounds more like he breathes it out. ‘W-we, we'll just talk with the EU if we have to. They can help us, they're helping Greece, no?’

‘I don't want that damn potato bastard's money!’ Romano shouts. ‘I want none of his damn money, it wouldn't even do any fucking good if I did get any because all money that I get in my hand ends up in someone else's pocket!’

Veneziano sits down, close to Romano. Much closer than needed. He hums — a small and discontent sound. ‘But we're still not quite at the level of Greece, not together,’ Veneziano says and touches Romano’s arm softly. ‘We'll manage, just hang on for a bit more. You heard what she said, that we managed to survive the worst part of the crisis. I've got a bit of a cold too, you know. We're in this together.’

‘But for how long..?’

Veneziano closes his eyes and slides deeper into his seat, a weary expression forming on his face. Romano has given up on trying to stop his tears and watches his brother's face carefully.

‘Let's not talk about that now,’ he answers. Romano's frown deepens.

‘You want to leave me. That we worked so fucking hard to unify seems to mean shit these days, doesn't it.’

‘I don't want to leave you!’ Veneziano says, opening his eyes to stare at Romano with large and helpless eyes. Tear filled eyes. His voice is loud and rings in Romano’s ears. ‘I might be my people, but I'm also me! You can't focus on _that_ now, because-- because _I_ don't want to leave you.’

‘What am I supposed to focus on? That the only reason I'm not completely fucked is that there are a few people who are a lot more fucked than me?’ Veneziano grips his left hand in his right. Romano slumps deeper, his head sliding to rest on Veneziano's shoulder. Veneziano cocks his neck and lets his head rest on top of Romano's. It's a slightly uncomfortable position, what with how their arms are squashed between their bodies and the angle of their necks. Neither makes a move.

‘It's a new year and we're leaving 2012 behind, and elections are soon. Focus on that.’ Veneziano smiles. ‘And remember that as certain as the ruins of grandpas city still exist in ours, I love you.’

Romano snorts. Of course Veneziano could make something as simple as that into half a fucking poem or lyrical masterpiece, art and music flowing in his veins. He notices that his tears has stopped; his neck wet and sticky behind the shirt collar, and his cheeks burning and red splotched under drying tears tracks. Veneziano grips his hand tighter.

‘Love you too, idiot,’ Romano mumbles. He gives it a response he normally wouldn't, because Veneziano's words aren't laced with pity.

**Author's Note:**

> \+ the meeting in davos, switzerland, i'm referring to is the davos summit of jan 23rd this year. if you don't remember anything about the nations i mentioned in passing it's because none of them made the biggest news, at least not in my country, but rather david cameron's speech about what the uk's future relation to eu will be (and also angela merkel's choice of not mentioning what he talked about lol).  
> \+ the "she" veneziano refers to is christine lagarde, the imf chief.  
> \+ italy's economy is honestly looking better this year than last though! christine lagarde said that you guys survived, as did spain! so cheer up, romanito!  
> \+ ...sobsob idek how this happened. i have this qt italy bros fic i've started, but somehow writing this in one afternoon happened instead of working on that.


End file.
